Sienna and Blue
by rbi1830
Summary: She was the commander, and he was the captain. A string of stories taking place both during and after the Clone Wars concerning Ahsoka and Captain Rex.
1. Clone in the Kitchen

Author's Note: Hello all! Welcome to _Sienna and Blue_. This is a project I've been working on for a bit, and I thought it might be fun to finally get it out there. This will be a string of stories taking place both during and after the timeline of Clone Wars. Most chapters will focus on Ahsoka and Rex, but some will focus on other characters. It should be updated weekly, unless otherwise noted. So sit back and enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter 1: Clone in the Kitchen**

* * *

It was day three of Rex's medical leave, and somehow Ahsoka had found him.

Okay, he hadn't been hiding exactly. But he needed some peace and quiet, and somehow she had found him. Though where else did he really go during the daytime while the rest of Torrent Company was off on some hells-forsaken-planet in the Outer Rim without him except the rec room? Which, of course, he wasn't even supposed to be in as he had torn his knee the week prior bumbling over a rock. Kriffin' rock. Kriffin' planet. And now Ahsoka was looking down her bubbly nose at him, hands on her hips, blue eyes trailing from his leg in a rigid cast to the weights in his hands with that "You shouldn't be doing that, and you know it" look.

"I'm not working my leg, kid," Rex said, grunting as he set the weights down at the floor of the bench. "Kix said to stay off it, and I am."

"Kix said to not _exert yourself_ ," Ahsoka countered smartly, "which you are clearly not doing, Captain."

Damn. So she had overhead their medic as they evac'd. He mulled over the smart retorts in his mind, but settled instead for the peaceable solution. She was his CO after all.

"Is the General visiting the GAR?"

Ahsoka's lips puckered like she'd taken a bite of soursop fruit, and she sighed dramatically with a roll of her eyes. "No. He's off at some special all-day meeting with Tarkin and the Chancellor. I haven't a clue what they could talk about for so long though. I guess saving Tarkin's life wasn't enough to warrant a dinner invitation, but he probably sensed I would turn it down anyway, the sleemo."

While Rex would normally say something about her mouthing off against a high-ranking officer, he had worse things to say about the man and the hypocrisy was not lost on him. Instead, he took a moment to scan her, noticing she had come in her normal burgundy top instead of workout clothes. So she wouldn't be joining him in lifting weights.

"I'm surprised you're not at the Jedi Temple doing some training."

"I tried that, too," she said, her pout stuck on her face. "But the Temple is so… so…" She grappled a sufficient word. "Stuffy."

"Stuffy?" Rex asked, brows lifted. That's something he would have said under his breath.

Ahsoka's lek curled with irritation. "You have no idea. Everyone's so caught up in the war that you can't find a free room to practice or meditate or sit even. It's just war meetings here and war councils there and admirals and generals and… and… "

She folded her arms so tightly it looked painful and said in a quiet voice, "It's just… not the same as it was. And it's so tense I can't concentrate there. So I tried to see if Barriss was around, but she's with Master Luminara on Geonosis again. I even comm'd Padme—and she's in Senate meetings for the week! She invited me to stay at her apartment during the day and said that she'd be back tonight, but it's just no fun being alone. And that's when I remembered that even though the 501stst is away, you were on med leave—"

A rueful smile curled onto Rex's face. He was wondering how he would fit into the story.

"So I thought maybe you'd want to join me at her apartment for the day," Ahsoka finished explaining, her voice bright as she looked at him expectantly.

He coughed, embarrassed. The idea of skin-crawling discomfort of being surrounded by luxuries rustled in the back of his mind. "I don't know, kid. The Senator didn't exactly invite me."

"She knows you. Of course you're welcome there," said the Togruta happily.

He tried a different tactic. "It wouldn't exactly be proper for us to be alone together."

White marking raised, Ahsoka gestured to the rec room completely devoid of any life forms. Her voice echoed slightly along the high walls. "Rex, we're always alone together. I don't think being here or there will really matter. Besides, we could make dinner, a _real_ dinner."

There were plenty of arguments he had against this. They were always alone together, but technically it was always with other people nearby, whether it was on the _Resolute_ , the Outer Rim, or even the GAR rec room. But being in an apartment, alone, together, was different. It could be seen as indecent, breaking orders. And image of the irate face of General Skywalker, shocked at the betrayal and ready to slash him through with his lightsaber, popped into Rex's head, and he cringed inwardly. He wasn't planning on doing anything indecent—Ahsoka was just sixteen and he was a twenty-two and the captain of the 501st—but he didn't want to even nudge the line of insinuation. He'd made a conscious effort to never enter her small room on the _Resolute_ when she was there alone, though—he realized with a surprising start—she had been in his room. Multiple times. Alone. Together. How had he gotten so lax on rules?

But then again, if there was dinner involved…

"I would be honored to accompany you, Commander," he said, grinning beside himself as her face lit with the widest smile he'd ever seen. Curse his stomach.

He hooked his belt and decees back on his waist, gathered up his crutches, and shakily hopped to one foot, the other raised just enough to not bang on the floor. Though he was ungainly, at least he was mobile.

"Great! I'll comm a cab," she exclaimed as she walked slow enough to keep pace with his awkward hop-skipping. While Rex would have normally disagreed, he was thankful for the offer. His injury wasn't severe enough for a trip to the bacta tank, but even with heavy painkillers to take the edge off the pain, he was sore and a walk to the Senate district might have been the end of the famous Captain Rex.

Thankfully, because of the cab, it was a mostly painless and quick trip to the building, made more peaceful with a surprisingly quiet Ahsoka, the Togruta's orange knees jittering as she stared out the window as they flew closer to the landing pad on the balcony. As the cab landed, Ahsoka popped out like a blaster shot, paying the cabbie with lightning speed and then zipping over to the balcony door to punch in the security code, all this done in the time it took Rex to shimmy awkwardly out of the speeder and regain his balance on his crutches. At her gesturing, he hopped forward and entered the quiet apartment.

It was just as fancy, clean, and spacious as he guessed it would be, but he wasn't prepared for how uncomfortable he would feel stepping onto the polished floor. The thick windows blocked all sound of the busy city-planet surrounding them, and the crèmes and whites of the thick, stone pillars and draping curtains stretched the room, dwarfing them both. Rex winced self-consciously as the crutches clicked on the stone floor, and the idea of just turning the hell around and hobbling out grew stronger in his mind as he realized he hadn't changed out of his workout clothes. Briefly visiting a senator's luxurious home while on the job was one thing; trying to relax in it on med leave was another.

"Threepio! Hey, Threepio!"

When the posh voice of the droid failed to answer, Ahsoka shrugged and walked farther into the apartment. "I guess he's running an errand for Padme. Looks like it really will be just us."

Cautiously, Rex followed his commander into a second room full of curved, gray couches. Ahsoka stacked her boots in a neat pile and flopped down onto one of the seats, snatching up a square remote and hitting one of the buttons. A screen rose up in the middle of the floor and the holonews popped on.

"Fruit prices rising! Fruit sellers are hit hard by the war as—"

"Ugh, anything but the holonews," groaned Ahsoka to herself, and she switched through channels at lightning speed, finally landing on a bolo-ball match: Malastare Bounty Hunters, versus the Corellian Blizmen.

She watched the match in silence, but after a few minutes Rex noticed she kept tapping her fingers on her knee and her gaze was unfocused as if her mind was parsecs away. From his spot behind the couch, he glanced out the windows to where the enormous Jedi Temple sat, its smooth grey walls and five towers breaking up the monotony of the city-planet. From here it looked unnatural and ancient, almost like it had grown right out of the ground in the middle of the city a million years ago and decided to stay. He'd never known the Temple before the war—hell, he hadn't known anything but the white walls of Tipoca City before he was decanted—but he could imagine the reverse of Ahsoka's situation. If one day he was sent back to Kamino and the clones were picking flowers and being flash-trained on agriculture, it wouldn't feel like home.

"Rex, you are allowed to relax."

Rex felt a hot flush creeping up the back of his neck as Ahsoka interrupted his thoughts. Kneeling on the seat and staring over the back of the couch at him, she seemed torn between concern and laughter.

He shrugged. She could reveal what was bothering her at her own pace.

"I shouldn't, sir. I saw how easy it was for you to get in. That means it's just as easy for an intruder. The Senator should have better security for a place this inconspicuous."

Shaking her head, Ahsoka gave in to laughter. "I think we're pretty safe here. I mean, Padme has had only one non-successful attack on the apartment recently, and that was before they upped her security. And if there was an intruder, they'd have us to deal with. Though," she scrutinized his cast and side-arms, "have you tried shooting while on crutches?"

"I'm a decent shot," he said, a bit of pride creeping into his voice. Practicing with his decees was the first thing he had done after being released from the med bay. Thankfully, his balance wasn't so bad that he couldn't stand on one foot and aim, though it did limit his mobility. "I can take out the Seppies no matter the circumstances."

"You never cease to amaze, Captain," Ahsoka said. Her eyes sparkled as she looked up at him. With a happy sound, she popped to her feet. "Maybe some dinner will persuade you to sit down. Hungry?"

He followed her into yet another adjoining room and paused in the doorway, his insides shrinking. The kitchen was gigantic, at least half the size of the fantastic grey seating area, and had dozens of devices that looked more suited for torture than he could have imagined, and he'd seen quite a few of those. The walls and many cabinets were a pale pink (completely un-utilitarian), the floor a swirling black and white (dizzying), and there, dancing lightly on her feet as she scanned the contents of a Wookiee-sized black cooler, BUN-E droids crowding around, was Ahsoka, her sienna skin standing out like a sore thumb.

He was completely out of his element. Maybe he could suggest they take a ration bag of fancy, Senator grub each and return to the utilitarian, clone-infested GAR headquarters.

"Do you feel like anything specific?" came Ahsoka's slightly muffled voice.

"Something protein based." He hopped up behind her, ready to propose his getaway plan, and his jaw nearly dropped.

The cooler was stuffed to the brim with food, _real_ food. Raw nerf steaks; whole nunas; many-legged, scaled creatures; roots in purple, red, and orange; ripe fruits, leafy blue and green things, and shining bottles full of labels and what looked like multi-colored gels—he'd never actually seen a civvie cooler before. He was used to the usual dehydrated ration packs and bars. Even on Saleucami, Cut had gone outside to grab one of the nunas pecking around the house since his family didn't have a cooler. This was like something out of a daydream.

His stomach grumbled like a stupid rancor, and a hot prickle rose up his ears as Ahsoka giggled. Kriffin' high metabolism.

"It's a beautiful sight after rations and dehydrated roots," Ahsoka said. The smile lingered on her face, but her gaze again seemed distant, her white markings lowering in reflection. "If we could eat like this every day, no ration bars, no rehydrated dinners in a bag..."

"If we did, you'd have a bunch of fat clones waddling around like Orn Free Taa," finished the Captain.

Ahsoka half-consciously pushed away a BUN-E prodding her thigh. "That would be quite the sight. But..."

But he knew what she meant. And he knew what was bothering her, and it was something he didn't let himself dwell on because he didn't want to see where that thinking led him. Not yet. Not when he had brothers to take care of. But he still knew. That was the thing about being alone, together, so often. She was becoming familiar.

"So Rex," Ahsoka waved her hand towards the door, "if you want to escape, here's your chance."

He gave her a dark look. Or she just knew his thoughts so well because she was a Jedi.

"It was written all over your face," she said quickly, but her lekku shone brighter than usual and she hid her face behind the door of the cooler. "But since we're here, we might as well stay. And if we're going to eat, let's make this a special occasion."

Ahsoka worked around the BUN-E droids and stuffed her arms with a package of nerf steaks, purple roots, and a muja fruit. "We'll do the cooking this time, BUN-E's. But if you want to help, find me the large pot and a knife, the tiny one for tubers."

About five Bun-E's chirped, "Yes, Mistress," and scattered, the rest lingering as those five drug out the items and tossing them onto a counter by the heating element. Ahsoka and Rex followed, piling the items in her arms beside the pot.

"What's our plan of attack, Commander?" Rex asked, watching Ahsoka unwrap the steaks and practically slather them in a white, chunky substance, the scent reminding him of the ocean.

Ahsoka flicked her hand and a durasteel bowl from on top of the cabinets floated into it, which she set in front of Rex. "I know you have a sweet tooth, so I was thinking you might want to handle the chocolate cake."

"Chocolate?"

With another wave, a holopad from another cabinet fluttered into her hands, and she did a quick search before handing it to him. An article—no, a recipe—titled "Chocolate Cake" was displayed.

"It's kinda like caff, except sweeter," she said. "I think you'll like it. Padme had some leftover after a Senatorial dinner when I came to visit once, and I got to try a bite. It seemed like just your thing. If you can't find anything, the BUN-E's will help."

The BUN-E's practically swarmed his legs, looking up at him with mouths at such an angle he could swear they were trying to smile, murmuring in their high-pitched voices, "Help. Mister. Help. Help." It would be so easy to blow these mini-clankers to bits and walk out the door.

"Up to the challenge, Rex?"

Well, maybe he could get along with these clankers. He turned his gaze to the recipe. Nuna eggs, flour, fine sugar—"Easier than a dropdown on Ryloth, kid."

"It's Ahsoka," she said, drawing the word out. She smiled at him, white markings raised into teasing look. "Two years and you're still calling me that? I'm not a kid anymore, Rex."

Rex stared at her expectant smile, suddenly very aware of how much older she looked when not surrounded by scores of clones or Admiral Yularen or the General. He tried to ignore the flock of BUN-E's around their legs, staring up at them in silence with bright machine eyes. Half of him wanted to call her by her name. It was right at the tip of his tongue. The other half wore plastoid armor and warned him rigidly in a commanding voice that this was the General's Padawan, his CO, he should stick to habit, and it was completely inappropriate. But, then again, he was being lax on rules.

"All right, _Ahsoka_ ," he emphasized her name, making the Togruta's dark lips quirk into a grin, and suddenly the kitchen flared up about twenty degrees. "But don't expect it to taste as good as that Senatorial dinner cake. I've never cooked anything but rations in a bag before."

She laughed brightly, waving her hand again. A plastoid board came to a halt in front of her, and she began to chop the purple tubers, fist-sized round roots, into uneven blocks.

"Don't worry. I don't have much experience either. Anakin's cooked me a few dinners when we were sick of the mess hall, but he used these spices and…" Her nose wrinkled from the memory of nuna eggs that had nearly burned her tongue off. "It wasn't a pleasant experience."

With that she focused back on chopping and he turned to the recipe. It was simple. Follow the recipe and he'd have nothing to worry about. It was just like a battle plan, except the ingredients didn't listen to you and no one blew up. But, being on crutches, he'd need a bit of help. Waving over the BUN-E's, he placed the holopad in their pincer-like hands.

"I need all of this," he instructed firmly, then added as an afterthought as his knee spiked painfully. "And a chair."

"Yes, sir!"

The group of BUN-E's tottered off quickly, returning in a flurry of ingredients, equipment, and, five of them teetering awkwardly underneath its weight, a silver chair high enough for him to sit and reach the counter. With a barely concealed wince, he sat down and looked over his array. An earthy smell permeated the room, the hiss of the heating element and some bubbling thing in the large kitchen. To his right, Ahsoka had dumped the purple tubers in the pot and was now haphazardly coating the four nerf steaks in a black powder. She definitely had more experience than she let on. But then again, it couldn't be that hard to do. She wasn't even following a recipe.

So Rex began. He followed the instructions to the letter, sniffing each ingredient experimentally, with the help of the BUN-E's figuring out which measuring devices to use. When he reached the sweetener, though, he put perhaps a bit more than required after taste-testing the white, gritty stuff. Soon he was pouring what looked like a mud-brown mess into a rectangular pan, eyeing the brown sludge gloop down with concern. It had to taste better than it looked, he thought as three BUN-E's placed it in the oven. At least it smelled sweet, though slightly earthy. As long as it didn't taste like the muddy Saleucami ground it resembled, he would be reasonably satisfied. And, as he glanced at the BUN-E's wiping off the counters to a new armor shine, he had grown to decently like his soldiers in arms, even if they were clankers.

He sniffed the air again, and his stomach gave an almighty rumble. Something savory, toothsome, and salty, like the fresh state of dried protein the clones were occasionally given on long missions, stuck to the kitchen. Ahsoka had placed the nerf steaks on the heating element and was watching them closely as they sizzled, juices bubbling along their slightly brown edges. He swallowed hard; his mouth was watering enough to put Kamino to shame.

"They'll be done soon," she said. An odd grin crossed her face as she looked back at him. "It looks like you had quite the adventure."

Puzzled, Rex looked down. His previously regulation spotless white shirt was covered in ingredients, patches of white flour and fine sweetener all along his front smeared globs of batter along his arms. War, like cooking, was not clean.

Shrugging, the clone brushed a hand over his buzzed hair, wincing as he felt the roughness of sweetener on his scalp. "It's the danger of the unknown, sir. I guess you won't get me sitting down today. I don't want to risk replicating this mess in the Senator's apartment."

Ahsoka turned back to the sizzling nerf steaks, and he had the odd suspicion she was rolling her eyes.

One of the BUN-E's gazed up at the clone intently, slowly opening and closing his pincer hands as if deep in thought. And then its eyes literally brightened.

"I will get your resting clothes!" it squeaked, toddling off at a surprisingly fast pace.

Rex returned Ahsoka's baffled look. What in all the worlds…

"Here, I'll go see what it's doing," mumbled Ahsoka, quickly sliding the nerf steaks onto two plates before following the droid out. This left Rex alone—well, alone if you didn't count about seven BUN-E's bobbing about as company—and for some reason he had a bad feeling about this.

It wasn't like there were hidden mines in the kitchen, though—Rex peeked around quickly—it was always good to check. He eyed the steaks dripping juices onto the plates. The Senator's plates. In the Senator's kitchen. In the Senator's apartment. He picked at the batter drying on his arms, his skin prickling. He felt like he was invading the Senator's privacy. And now with the mini-clanker off to find him "resting clothes", whatever the kriff those were, he had no idea what to expect. Maybe the Senator often had a male guest over who, for some reason, kept a change of clothes here and the mini-clankers thought he was that repeated guest. Maybe the male guest was a secret lover. A secret spouse. The image of the General popped into his head for the second time that day, but this time it was a memory of the Jedi smiling down at a recovering Senator Amidala after she was saved from the Blue Shadow Virus. Perhaps he was the one—

Rex jumped as the oven dinged, and the BUN-E's, chirping excitedly to each other, surrounded it, pulling out what looked like a now solidified but more cake-like brown rectangle.

 _It couldn't be the General_ , he thought, gathering up the frosting as the BUN-E's slid the cake in front of him. Anakin was a Jedi and Jedi expressly forbid attachments. But then again Anakin wasn't much for following the rules or the Council. And he obviously was attracted to the Senator, and the Senator obviously fancied him. If they did have a secret relationship, which he heavily suspected they did, they were stupidly bad at not mooning over each other in front of the 501st.

 _But it's none of my business_ , he thought firmly, and he tried to focus on finishing the cake.

Rex smeared a thick frosting on top of the cake, swirling it into fluid designs with a careful eye, adding as an afterthought two spiky Jaig eyes to the middle. Might as well take pride in his work.

"These look about your size."

He swiveled on his chair, eyebrows shooting up at Ahsoka's appearance. Gone was her usual outfit, and instead she was dressed in soft, flowing black pants and a sleeveless white shirt, her sienna skin and white markings brightened by the colors. They were much _richer_ clothes than he'd ever seen her wear. In her arms was a bundle which Rex suspected was the "resting clothes".

"Padme got these for me," she said, seeing his expression, her blue stripes darkening slightly. "I've stayed here a few times and she thought I needed something besides my everyday stuff to sleep in. It's kind of a weird civvie thing to have more than one pair of clothes. BUN-E insisted you have these, and they look about your size…"

She flumped the bundle around his shoulders so that it wouldn't fall off, and an awkward silence hung in the air, and he was sure she was thinking along the same line as he had a few minutes ago.

"I'll be a minute," he grunted. Straightening up and gathering his crutches, Rex hopped off to change. At least changing would take his mind off things. Casts were damn near impossible to dress with sometimes.

* * *

"This is something else, Rex," the Togruta sighed and practically inhaled another piece of cake. He would have answered, but he thought it impolite to speak with his mouth stuffed with the best damn food he'd ever eaten. Unlike some of his brothers, he had table manners.

He shifted the plate on his lap piled with mashed tubers (now being shoveled into his mouth), a nerf steak (he'd already devoured one) and tried not to let his feet touch the soft carpet too much. Somehow Ahsoka had gotten him on the couch. Maybe because he'd come out of the 'fresher with the pant legs several inches too long and he was afraid he'd trip over them and extend his med leave and so made a beeline for the closest seat possible, or maybe because Ahsoka, laughing at the sight of him with too long pants, had set all the food on the table by the couch, or maybe because she had forced the BUN-E's to stay in the kitchen and if they moved in that direction the mini-clankers would come flocking to them. Either way, here they were, seated beside each other on the curved gray couch eating a perfect dinner.

Maybe the cake was a bit gooey and overly sweet. And maybe the steaks were a bit salty. But then again it was hard to tell when you were raised on ration bars, the most bland substance in the galaxy, and anything besides them was a taste-overload.

But this was just… he glanced at Ahsoka seated cross-legged, chewing with her eyes squeezed shut in ecstasy… kind of weird. In a good, slightly (very) uncomfortable way.

He curled his toes away from the strange softness of the carpet, intensely aware of wearing another man's clothes while eating someone else's food in the Senator's apartment suite. He'd never owned… anything. Technically, he didn't even own his armor. There were a few keepsakes tucked away in a drawer beside his bunk from different planets, mostly things to remember his brothers by, but they amounted to practically nothing. And to have all this...

Distractedly, he rubbed the pant leg material between his fingers before flinching his hand away. Was this what civilian life was like, at least life for those few rich enough to own the top floor of a tower? He couldn't imagine a life without his brothers—well, more like without seven of them hanging around him at every moment of the day—or without sleeping on the ground in flimsy tents or in bunks with regulation bedding and fighting in the war, mostly because that's what his life had always been, what he'd been created for. But he wondered if he wasn't a soldier, what would he be? He laughed inwardly at the idea of being a senator. A life of deliberation and negotiation instead of war. Meetings every day and making enemies with legislation. A life of pens instead of blasters. A life of comfort. Maybe even of family.

"I wonder sometimes, too," Ahsoka interrupted quietly.

Rex looked up at the Toguta gazing out the window to the Jedi Temple, now illuminated against the semi-dark sky. Night had fallen, and the bright neon reds and yellows of the city lights outside reflected in her eyes.

"I've thought about it sometimes. Maybe I could have my own home." She spoke cautiously, haltingly, as if she wasn't sure the words should be spoken. "Nothing fancy like this, but something with a bed and a kitchen and my own room. And I could choose any job I want. Maybe I'd be a bodyguard. Or a performer in one of those plays in the Entertainment District. Maybe I'd live on some backwater planet and be a mechanic in some dingy shop and be covered in oil and grease. Every day I'd wake up and look outside, and the war would just be this far off thing in some other system."

She sighed, turning her gaze on her plate. "It's dangerous to think like that, Rex. Jedi are supposed to be free from attachment and jealousy, and material possessions are frowned upon. Master Yoda says the Jedi Code is the way to peace and enlightenment. I'm trying to do the right thing. I _know_ I'm doing the right thing. But sometimes," she stabbed her nerf steak violently, "it just seems wrong."

He watched her chew in silence, not quite sure what to say and not quite sure what "it" fully encompassed. The Jedi Order meant everything to her. He'd known it since the day she marched off the shuttle on Christophsis and practically leapt into battle. But here she was doubting it…

"You think the Jedi Code is wrong?" he asked.

Ahsoka chewed thoughtfully for a minute. "Well, maybe _wrong_ isn't the right word. Sometimes it seems too simple. Way too simple. I mean, the Jedi Masters always say only Sith deal in absolutes, but that's all the Jedi do. _This_ is good. _This_ is bad. No exceptions. Except it seems like there are exceptions, and nobody wants to look at them." She rolled her eyes, setting her empty plate on the table beside them. "I don't know. I think I've been influenced by my Master too much. He doesn't always go by the Jedi Code and maybe that's rubbed off on me. Maybe it means I'm a bad Jedi."

"You've risked your life countless times for my men. In my book, that makes you one of the best Jedi I know," Rex said sternly. And he meant it. "Besides, you've saved my shebs more times than I can count."

A small smile lit her face. "One of the best Jedi you know, huh?"

"I'd say the best, but I'm afraid the General might fly in here and massacre me if he heard it."

This time she laughed outright, and he couldn't help but grin at the sound, at the sight of her less troubled. They both turned at sudden movement from the kitchen.

Two of the BUN-E's had escaped their confines and trundled up beside them, dropping off about six cups full of a myriad of colored drinks, candles, and a bowl of fruit.

"Drinks for the Mistress and Mister," they squeaked and bounced back into the kitchen. Rex could swear behind the door he could hear the mini-clankers chirping and celebrating their secret serving attack.

Shrugging, Ahsoka reached for a round glass full of burgundy liquid and swirled it around. "That was sure nice of them. If I weren't so stuffed, I'd eat all that fruit myself."

Grunting in assent, Rex picked up a glass of the same drink and sipped it tentatively. Nectarwine. Not his first choice and too sweet for his tastes, but he couldn't complain. Except that Ahsoka was taking her first sip of it. She was technically of age on Coruscant, but she'd never drunk anything alcoholic (to his knowledge), and this was hardly the time for a first drink.

"Ahsoka, wait—"

"Threepio, would you get the door?"

Rex and Ahsoka froze in horror at the sound of all-too familiar male voice outside the door, the clone's hand raised halfway to stop her drinking and the Togruta with the glass stuck at her lips, and he was sure he had the same wide-eyed, gritted-teeth expression as the padawan. What was Anakin doing here at this hour?

"I think I'd fallen asleep about six times before you rescued me."

A soft, female voice replied. "Well, it's a good thing I'm a senator, or I couldn't rescue you so often."

"I'm eternally grateful, Milady."

"Grateful enough to make the caff tonight?"

"I'd grow the pods myself if I could."

There was a quiet pause outside, a horrible pause where all the worst things imaginable jumped into Rex's mind and he tried to block out the sound of whispered sweet-nothings. They were still stuck in their absurd, frozen positions. This was almost the worst possible situation to be found in—candles, wine, barely of-age drinking, alone, together, and overhearing a Jedi and Senator's mushy conversation.

But then it fell silent, and the door sprang open a second later as Anakin rushed in, lightsaber lit, the Senator glancing around the doorway with a blaster in hand and C-3PO hiding behind her. Anakin's intense gaze landed on the scene and his expression morphed from tense to surprised to a smoothed-over guilt almost faster than the eye could follow.

"Ahsoka? Rex? What are you doing here?" Anakin spluttered out.

"Ahsoka?" Padme entered the room cautiously, and then her mouth fell open in recognition. "I'm so sorry. With everything going on today, I'd forgotten I invited you."

Anakin glanced at the Senator and then to the array in front of his padawan, not quite concealing his blanch at seeing Rex's clothes. If Rex could disintegrate on the spot, he would like nothing more at the minute.

"What—" the General began.

"Dinner. We had dinner," Ahsoka said, her montrals turning charcoal gray. She thumped the glass down, nearly sending wine all over, and stood up quickly. "And now we're leaving."

Rex jumped to one foot, fumbling with his crutches. He gave the sloppiest salute of his life to Anakin and then Senator Amidala and promptly hop-skipped his way out behind the Togruta. "Evening, General. Senator. Protocol droid."

And they left the trio, Anakin still with his lightsaber lit, standing in mild shock in the apartment.

Everything was a whirling buzz in Rex's ears as they made their way to the lifts. Of all the situations to find himself in. And now his suspicions about the General and Senator were all but confirmed in writing. He glanced at Ahsoka who practically stomped down the hall, fists clenched, and wearing an expression usually reserved for battle.

They remained silent all the way to the lifts, Ahsoka punching the button for the bottom floor hard enough to dent the plastoid.

Finally, around halfway down, Ahsoka slammed a fist on the pause and stared at the wall. If looks could bore through walls, the maintenance droids would be replacing everything on the thirty-sixth floor.

"Well… I guess we know the big secret now," she grumbled. "I always guessed it, but I never really thought… I thought he just fancied her."

"It seems obvious now, doesn't it?" he remarked.

Huffing out a sigh, Ahsoka leaned back against the wall, arms folded tightly over her chest. "Really obvious." She sounded partly in shock and partly hurt. And it had to hurt. He was her master, and he'd kept the biggest secret of the galaxy from her; and it would have to stay a secret. Rex could see her mind whirling quickly from thought to thought, and the realization hit him of what this would mean to the Council. Something akin to horror shone in her eyes.

He respected the Jedi. He'd pledged his life to serve them, after all. But it didn't make a flying kriff of difference to him who Anakin slept with.

"I know the GAR is a gossip hive," Rex said quickly, and Ahsoka's gaze flickered to his face, "but if my men don't know about the General and the Senator by now, I won't be telling them."

"Thanks, Rex."

Her expression lifted somewhat, or at least she didn't look like she was out for blood anymore, but there was still some hurt left. Quietly, she pressed the button for down again, and their lift quivered back to life.

"He's a good man," she said at last. "I know my Master has his troubled spots, but he cares about people. Even if the Jedi Council doesn't agree with him—and he sure doesn't agree with the Council all the time—he's doing what he thinks is best. So I won't tell the Council. But… I need to think about this."

She glanced at Rex, and then her mouth fell open in horror. "Our clothes are back in the apartment."

"Ah."

Another second of wide-eyed dread remained, and then her face scrunched up in laughter.

Bemused, he shook his head. Maybe a sip had been too much wine for her. "I don't know what's so funny about the situation."

"Everything!" she giggled, holding her sides. "And nothing. Oh Force, it's just so stupid, all of this. Can you imagine what he was thinking when he saw us?"

Her laughter was contagious. Unable to stop it, Rex gave her a lopsided grin. "He looked about ready to behead us both."

"I think he would have if we stayed any longer."

"Except he looked more shocked than we did."

"I'd almost say he was." Ahsoka grinned. "But I guess he didn't kill us today. The Jedi Code is still the rule, my Master is still breaking it, and life goes on." The lift slowed to a halt and Ahsoka blew out a sigh as she stepped out on the tenth level, the clone following slowly. "Come on, Rex. I'll comm. us a cab."

* * *

Shivering slightly next to each other on the landing pad, Rex felt more relieved than he had all night now that they were in a familiar environment. Chill, slightly humid air thick with pollution, a duracrete parking zone, the GAR bunks ahead with no frills, no stone, and no extra cushioning—everything was going back to normal. But for a moment—he glanced at Ahsoka standing straight-backed and thoughtful at his side—it had been nice. Something in their night, not the apartment or the food exactly—though the food had been fekkin' good—made him long for something more, something that he couldn't have. It wasn't enough exactly. It would never be enough in his short lifetime, however long that lasted, but it was a bright moment he knew his mind would drift to often.

A bright gleam of headlights grew closer to their position, signaling the cab. Their night was growing to an end.

"Ahsoka," he muttered under his breath, nudging her slightly.

"Hmm?"

"You have nothing to worry about, wondering if you're a bad Jedi or not."

Lips puckered, Ahsoka raised a white marking at him. "Yeah?"

"As long as you're not having secret trysts with senators, I don't think the Jedi Council will kick you out."

"Rex!"

The smack on the arm was worth it, though he wasn't sure if the way his whole arm tingled was from the bruise-inducing punch or just from contact with her cool skin.


	2. Bolo-Ball

Author's Note: Hello again! Thank you very much for the very kind reviews! Here is chapter two of _Sienna and Blue_. This takes place a bit after the pilot movie Star Wars: The Clone Wars. Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter Two: Bolo-Ball

* * *

"Commander, please tell me this wasn't your doing."

He could practically feel the smugness rolling off the padawan as she grinned cheekily up at him before she turned back to face the carrier. "It was, Captain. You might want to stand back for a minute. I need to move this just a few more feet."

With irritation bubbling up in his chest, he watched as, with closed eyes and arms raised and quivering for a minute or two, she lifted the carrier just off the ground with the Force and set it down with a loud _thonk_ four feet to the right of its prior location. Sweating, arms shaking slightly, Ahsoka looked up at him once again, sharp canines bared in a broad grin that he didn't return.

Normally, Rex marched into the hangar at 0500 to prepare drills for the 501st. Standard exercises really, just to keep the men in shape and on their toes and working as a team. But somehow during the night Ahsoka had turned his drill space, the _Redeemer's_ hangar, into an open field. A space the size of a cruiser sat in the middle of the hangar, the fighters, carriers, and walkers that normally inhabited the area now relegated to the far corners against the walls. And smack dab in the middle of the floor was a large rectangle of blue electrical tape divided into two halves, two large open crates at either end with a pudgy, round thing flumped in the center.

Rex rapped his fingers on the bucket clipped to his belt, giving her stern look. "What is all this?"

"It's a bolo-ball court," she said proudly, rocking on the balls of her feet. "I've been researching it all week. I had to stay up all night to move everything, but I think I got the dimensions right. Since the floor is reinforced plastoid, I thought it would make a good spot. Artoo helped me a bit."

"Bolo-ball? Commander—"

Why in all nine hells would she make a bolo-ball court in the hangar? And what would Admiral Yularen say when he saw all this? They weren't out in space for a joyride.

Some of the glimmer went out of her eyes at his expression, and she said quickly, "I was going to put it right back the way it was. There wasn't enough space in the rec room. But I thought since we're in hyperspace for the next ten hours you could play a game or two. Get to know your men. Have some fun."

Her grin had shrunk into a tentative grimace at this point, and Rex tried to contain his sigh.

Two months. It had been two months since she'd become Anakin's apprentice, and Rex regretted ever so slightly telling her experience outranks everything. It wasn't that he didn't like her. The Togruta was surprisingly fearless for one so young, quick-witted in the heat of battle, and had the makings of a damn good warrior. She supplied a brightness to the war that made getting shot at day after day bearable. But she was also impertinent, over-confident, impatient, and at times childish, well deserving of the nickname "Snips" from General Skywalker. And whenever she wasn't training with said General or attending to her Jedi duties, she stuck to Rex like Gungan spit.

Having been surrounded by brothers his entire life, it was an alien feeling to be treated like a mentor by this girl. Commanding an entire squadron of troopers in battle—no sweat. Being peppered by questions by the padawan—he felt like an opee sea killer out of water. Ahsoka wasn't like a little sister—since he had no idea what that truly was like—and to complicate that further she was technically his CO, but she had to be reined in occasionally. And this was one of those times.

"This isn't practical," he said sternly. "What if we were attacked? What we if needed the carriers right now? Did you even ask Admiral Yularen if you could do this?

"He'd never know," Ahsoka shot back. "And I don't think he'd mind."

Rex shook his head. "You can't just rearrange the hangar without asking. Everything needs to be in its place, or we could lose precious time if something attacked us. That's why I can't waste this time on a game. My men need training. Their lives depend on it."

The points of her montrals seemed to slump over at his words, but she stood her ground, white markings furrowed. "But it's just one time. The men could do with a break once in a while. We did in the Jedi Temple."

"This isn't the Temple, kid. This is war."

"I know that!" Ahsoka half-shouted, lowering her voice when it echoed shrilly. "I know that."

The words stung her. He knew it from the way she lowered her gaze to the floor and her shoulders tightened.

Nodding his head towards the open space, he spoke less sternly this time. "Would you get the ball?"

Ahsoka reached out a hand, sucking in a breath, and then sighed when the ball didn't zoom straight to her with the Force. She was just too tired. Instead, she trundled out to the center of the rectangle and was back a minute later, tossing the gray ball into his hands.

About the size of his bucket, rubbery and misshapen, he was surprised at how light it was. He turned it over to find half a white Republic logo emblazoned on one side, the other side hidden behind large black stitches.

"It's a wetsuit filled with air," the Togruta mumbled. "Artoo did the stitching for me."

Rex cocked a brow at her. "The little guy's better at fixing ships than sewing."

Tossing the ball between his hands, he was surprised when it didn't fall apart immediately. It wasn't as nice as the ones used by professionals on the holovids he'd seen, but it worked. Experimentally, he bounced the ball on his knee, smiling slightly when it bounced well even on his armor.

Sighing again loud enough for it to echo, Ahsoka meandered off towards the cruisers. "I guess I should start putting these back."

"Before you do, kid," he said, and she turned back with some hesitation, "I think you need a rest. If you can't move a ball, you're not moving a ship anywhere." When she opened her mouth to respond sharply, he continued, "Besides, our game'll go at least an hour. We're safe in hyperspace for the time being. If not, we won't be around long enough to regret it."

* * *

Anakin wasn't sure what he walked into when he entered the hangar. Usually, Rex had his men running laps in full armor or lifting crates or drilling; instead, a pack of clones, some in full body suits, the other half with just their legs covered, ran around chasing a ball while a square of troopers cheered around them. As he stared, a trooper was body checked to the floor, a chorus of "Oohh's" and "Hit him back, di'kut!" erupting from the clones all along the hangar walls. He spotted Ahsoka perched on a stack of crates watching the game intently, shouting along with everyone else. Somehow he got the feeling she had something to do with this.

Carefully, he swept around the ring of clones to her spot, wincing as he heard the smack of body on plastoid. Ahsoka cheered, waving at him when he got closer, her legs swinging over the sides of the crate.

"Snips, what's all this?" he asked lightly.

"It's a team building exercise, Master!" she yelled over the noise. "Rex thought it would help build trust and teamwork."

"Uh-huh." He watched a wobbling clone being dragged off the court, blood streaming from his nose. "This was Rex's idea?"

Whooping, Ahsoka smacked a hand on the crate, the clones around her shouting deafeningly. "Yes and no. Come on, Jesse! Knock him off the court!"

Anakin scanned the crowd for Rex, spotting the blonde-haired man just as a blue-tattooed clone slammed into him, the two rolling on the floor. But the man was smiling as he got up, slapping his assailant on the back good-naturedly, and the men on his team, the _shinies_ as Rex called them, were following his orders to the letter. In a way, this reminded him of the Boonta Eve Classic—the crowd, the tension, the betting—

"Why aren't you playing?" he joked. "This looks like your type of event."

She rolled her eyes. "They all said it would be cheating since I'm a Jedi. But maybe I'm a bit thankful for that. Bolo-ball is a lot more ruthless than I thought it would be. They're good but competitive."

As another lurching clone was hauled off to the side, he couldn't help but agree. He might have stayed to watch, but an itchy feeling skittered up the back of his neck. Something was coming, something highly unpleasant. This was his cue to make himself scarce.

* * *

Ahsoka paid no attention to her Master walking calmly yet briskly towards the far left doors. All her focus was on the game, on seeing Rex's men, _her_ men, without a care in the world. Not drilling, not training, not fighting—just being what she imagined normal was.

An enormous cry went up as someone scored a goal. Grinning wildly, Ahsoka, scanned the field to find out who had made it, and her gaze fell on a tall, thin man marching through the hangar doors.

Oh, _sith-spit_.

"What in the world is going on here?"

All eyes zipped to Admiral Yularen's quickly reddening face, the man's moustache bristling as the ball bounced lazily past his feet. The game came to a sudden standstill as every clone who could stand zipped to attention at once, and Ahsoka's earlier high spirits sunk all the way to the engine rooms as the Admiral's gray eyes found her.

Striding forward, Yularen's commanding voice cut through the silence of the hangar. "I come down here for a word with the captain, and I find you cahooting about like drunken fools! I needn't remind you that this is a Star Destroyer, not a senator's cruise liner! I can't believe this." He shook his head in disgust at the men, some of them saluting while holding shirts to their noses to stop the bleeding. "Captain Rex, front and center."

Rex came forward to stand at ease, sucking in a breath as he accidentally grabbed his skinned arm. "Admiral."

"What is the meaning of this foolishness?"

"Team building exercise, sir," he answered quickly, keeping his expression neutral.

Yularen's sharp eyes veered back to Ahsoka, who had stepped lightly off the crates and nudged forward. "And this was Commander Tano's idea, I assume?"

"Yes, sir. And I authorized it," Rex said. "We believed it would be best for the men to have a relaxing morning."

"Indeed," Yularen said stiffly. He scanned the crowd, pausing briefly on a clone leaning on his brother for support, another with a bump the size of a nuna egg on his head. "I want this hangar back in order in the next hour. And you will all get yourselves checked in the med bay first. I will not have an army full of invalids. Dismissed."

The men jumped into action, filing out as orderly as possible in near silence to leave Ahsoka, Yularen, and Rex alone in the hangar.

"I'd like a word with you, Commander Tano. In my office, if you please," Yularen ordered shortly.

Rex caught the way the padawan's eyes widened and her shoulders stiffened, and he stepped forward immediately. "Admiral, as I was involved, I believe—"

"You are dismissed, Captain," interrupted Yularen. Turning sharply on his heel, he strode out with a sheepish and very small-looking Ahsoka tagging behind.

Sighing, Rex lingered in the open space for a minute, debating with himself if he should follow the two anyway. But he knew Ahsoka would prefer to be alone for this lecture, to show that she could handle the consequences. He would go to the med bay first, follow orders, and then receive his own dressing down from the Admiral.

* * *

"Captain, I should kick your shebs out of here, but then I'd have to treat you in the hall."

Rex winced as Kix dabbed disinfectant on his arm perhaps a bit harder than normal with a swab. Normally, he would joke with the new medic, ask about the procedures for the day, tell him about the game he missed for med bay duty—but when Kix tightened Jesse's wrist splint with an irritable tug causing his brother to howl, his mouth practically sealed. Medics were a strange lot: temperamental and oftentimes grumpy. The medic was doing enough grumbling today for the whole squadron.

"Nine concussions, fifteen broken noses, five—no, six sprains, and stitches on Pointer—" he shot Hardcase a nerf milk-curdling glare which the man returned with a shrug, "—all for a game. I've seen fewer injuries after a battle. And I have no help. That di'kut Coric got himself concussed. Busy all afternoon. No help."

In a high temper, Kix stomped off to attend to more brothers further on in the hall. It really was as bad as the man had described, Rex thought as he looked around. Injured clones before battle: that had to be a first in this war. Gingerly, he weaved his way through the med bay trying to avoid anything coming in contact with his right side which, much to his dismay, was thoroughly bruised and probably purpling as he walked. He'd come away without much harm, just bruising and a skinned forearm, but it would sting like hell for the next few days. But some of his men—nothing bad enough for bacta but enough to take time to heal. He'd really done it this time.

But then again all his men—except for Kix—were laughing, talking animatedly, even if some were still wiping dried blood off their faces. They seemed… lively.

And that had been the point of the game. It had been stupid. It had been short-sighted. It was something he would never have done even six months ago. But he'd wanted his brothers to live for a moment. Many of these men wouldn't live to see another week. That was the harsh reality of being a clone. You fought, and if you were lucky, you returned to your bunk at night and wondered why you made it, why _you_ , and how you were going to make it again and again and again.

Rex paused at the doorway, looking back on the med bay full of brothers. Hardcase, perhaps as an act of repentance, was tagging behind Kix with his arms full of medical supplies like a carrier droid and babbling loudly about how the game went. Some of the gruffness left the medic, the corner of his mouth twitching into an irritable smile.

"If you fought as well as I heard you played bolo-ball, we'd have already crushed the Seppies," Kix said as he bent over a clone with a puffy black eye.

Hardcase slapped the medic on the back, earning himself another glare. "Just you wait, Kix. I've refined a few of my skills today. Those clankers won't know what hit 'em."

"Well, Slipshot doesn't know what hit him, either."

As Hardcase muttered apologies, Rex stepped out into the silence of the hall with a slight grin. This was how they coped with their reality. It didn't always work, but it helped.

And speaking of helping, his grin faded as he thought of Ahsoka. A half hour was long enough. It was time to intervene. Stopping in the hangar to quickly put on his armor, tightening the straps as lightly as he could on his bruises, he made for Yularen's office with his bucket tucked under his arm.

Beyond the door, Rex could just make out the muffled sound of Yularen's voice. He knocked, and the door zipped open to reveal the speaker. The Admiral was still lecturing Ahsoka, but he'd seem to have run out of steam. He simply stood with his hands clasped behind his back, looking down seriously at the Togruta while Ahsoka, head bowed slightly and arms folded, stared up at him. Even in the small Admiral's quarters, she seemed miniscule.

Rex saluted hastily as Yularen's gazed turned on him.

"Captain Rex, I'm not going to waste more time that could be spent putting my ship back in order by lecturing you, but I don't know what you were thinking," Yularen muttered before he could speak. "Bowling each other over like fools hardly seems like training. And next time ask before turning my hangar into a limmie court! Or at least inform Commander Tano that this sort of activity is highly inappropriate in a Star Destroyer."

And with that the Admiral strode off down the hall, grumbling under his breath, "Of all the Jedi… I swear my hair'll go white by the end of this war…"

A few seconds passed, and then Ahsoka looked up hesitantly at Rex. Her lips quirked into a grimace. "Well, at least he didn't throw me off the ship."

"Looks like it came close," he said.

That was hardly the dressing down he expected. But from the way Ahsoka's chin dipped down, her montral stripes a sludgy blue, she'd received the worst of it.

He thought about laying a hand on her shoulder, reassuring her with a nod and some uplifting words. But it would've been wrong. He couldn't just tell her it was all right because it wasn't. Yularen had been hard on her because she was young and because she needed that guidance—though, he thought guiltily, that's what he should have been doing. Sometimes he wasn't the responsible adult. But he didn't regret it. Not this time.

Giving her a small grin, he gestured towards the hall.

"Here, kid. I'll help you move everything back in place."

She blinked up at him, and then slowly the bright blue came back to her montrals, a small peek of a smile on her lips.

"I'd like that."


End file.
